


Remnants of a Dream

by EireneShulah



Series: Re:Make - You're (Certainly) Not Alone [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Dramedy, Friendship, Gen, Marco the Friendly Neighborhood Sephiroth Clone is the best, SOLDIER - Freeform, especially if you still feel like one of them, it's hard to reunite with ones you've betrayed, this is Remake Tseng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EireneShulah/pseuds/EireneShulah
Summary: Now joined by Kunsel and Giles (but still not fed with Malboro soup), unlikely fellowship of Zack and Genesis goes forth deep into Hojo labs to hunt for food and answers.As usual, it's not quite what they've expected.This oneshot can stand on its own. It's just a little crowded.
Relationships: Soldiers - Relationship, Zack Fair & Genesis Rhapsodos, Zack Fair & Tseng
Series: Re:Make - You're (Certainly) Not Alone [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728199
Kudos: 3





	Remnants of a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Of all characters godlessly butchered in Remake, Tseng is one of the worst casualties. Even compared to OC one he is...quite strange. And if we take into account that Crisis Core has just happened in Remake, and what characterisation Tseng received both there and in the Last Order OVA, the change is even more jarring. (Not to add, unnecessary.)
> 
> Given the guy was one of the few people Zack would call his friends, I couldn't escape temptation to write something on this matter.  
> Guess I'd have to resolve this situation somehow...losing so many good characters--good people--makes this series far too grim. It was conceived as at least half comedy.

Whatever Avalanche may have been, they were quite thorough in their destruction, be it ShinRa outer defences or Hojo's labs main floor. Nothing was left there but bullet-ridden walls, damaged pipework and thick layers of glass dust, with crystal-like shards glistening here and there. Quite a show of power it was; no surprise everyone who could've been kept away from this was kept away. There was little ShinRa hated more than being vulnerable. 

"Well, at least someone had fun today", Giles muttered. 

"Yeah. Turks who had to cover it all up", Puppy was happy to point out. 

He had weird definition of "fun", but then, Turks had equally weird definitions of many words, so Puppy could've been right after all. Blackies Genesis happened to know personally enjoyed such challenging situations. Actually, they were quite proud of being able to solve them with as little fuss as possible...but that was not something to think about. He had no desire to feel rotten smell of charred apples resurface again. That one belonged in the realm of nightmares, not a jolly good night out with old friends. 

"I just hope they're already outta here", Giles said. "I like blackies as much as any other guy, but they went clinically mad lately".

"That's since Tseng has taken the lead, and Veld gone MIA", Kunsel explained. "Though I'd bet my last wages that MIA is more like AWOL".

"Wow! You mean, my boy Tseng managed to make them really work for once in a while?". Tseng was closer in age to Genesis, but then, Puppy was never one to let such trifles bother his train of speech. Which was truly a joy to listen to...until Genesis remembered an offhand remark Puppy made when they've first met. 

He absolutely hated to be a bearer of bad news. He always turned out to be one.

"Fair, I must remind you that is not your Tseng we are talking about. This one wears his hair down." Just bare facts, no emotional input. If only he'd learned that simple rule earlier...but then _we live to learn, and mostly from mistakes,_ and regrets were absolutely futile mental activity.

Still, watching Puppy turn from absolute happiness to wary sadness was...not good. But the guy had his friends to comfort him; and some people are better off silent.

So he left the group and strolled further into artificial chaos of destroyed labs, trying not to think about the other Tseng, one who always tied his hair up. They barely knew each other, but they both happened to know many good and bad people--many good and bad times--events--only a few others remembered, and they shared several long walks through the rubble of Midgar talking about those people, times and events. Genesis rummaged though his endless supply of quotes, trying to find one fitting enough, when he saw a young man writhing in pain on the floor, white hair almost lost on white glass powder.

This was Hojo's place. Writhing people here were most likely as dangerous as they go. Genesis should've known; he used to be one. 

***

Of course he stepped closer and released a warm wave of healing magic.

"Who are you?", he asked, seeing man's eyes grow lucid. 

"Marco", came raspy answer. "Sephiroth clone 49", he added. And in fact, his features did resemble Sephiroth's: close enough to see connection, not close enough to mistake for one another. Unlike G-line, S-line was largely sterile in this department and no true clone was ever produced. Hojo had to actually implement G-line cells to make his clone project work even to that poor extent...which begged a question: if here there was no Genesis in this world, where did accursed scientist take G-line cells?

"Okay, Marco. Try not to move for a while, would you? I'd give one more dose of heals". Wutai war made its generals into quite capable field healers. Something to thank Minerva for, given true fate of those who were sent into mainland medical facilities. Personally, he thanked her daily since first introduction to Deepground. Or guilted himself for not doing enough to save more people from _that._

"Why?"

"Because if you move, you'll hurt yourself more. Where are you from, Marco?"

"Marle says, Sector 7 slums", Marco answered. "But I don't remember", he hesitated but added, "sir. You're a Turk?"

"Do I look like one?" Genesis helped the man get to his feet, summoned a gust of wind to blow away glass that may've stuck in his hair or ripped clothes. "We must find you something to wear. This cloak of yours is no good. You may've worn a fishnet instead".

"No, sir. You look like a general", Marco answered after a pause. "At least I think there was a general that looked like you".

"Oh, I guess there was", Genesis chuckled. Some sweet recognition was always welcome. "So, you're Soldier? Or infantry?"

"Marle says, I was a Soldier once. At least I got enlisted, she says. I don't remember much, sir. Not much at all. But this...it's like war I sometimes have dreams about. Or _he_ has."

They slowly made their way back to Puppy and his friends, Marco barely able to move after two healing waves. Rapid recovery was always taxing, and Soldiers with their inbuilt low-key mako-resistance had it even worse than regular people. Given Cloud never ever experienced such problems, that Marle must've been right.

"But I certainly remember I've just killed the Chief Director, sir. I had a sword, a weird Wutaii sword with two blades, but when I became _him,_ it became _his_ katana. But I wanted to kill Chief Director". 

_Souba, then..._ Genesis nodded to himself. His friend's childhood weapon. In the tale of Shinentai, vengeful thoughts given human form, it was the weapon of their leader---

"If you wanted, then it's your kill, not anyone else's", he said. He knew a thing or two about clones and at least with his it held true. Up until degradation caught up with them and ruined their minds, that is...which was also not something to think about right now. It belonged to lonely sleepless nights when he would stare at ever distant sky and mourn his transgressions. "When you're safe with captain Fair and his men, I'll go search for your sword if you need it".

"Captain Fair?", there was a flicker of recognition. Nice. Even Hojo in all his wile glory was never able to completely erase memories. They just...trailed off, sank deep and lay low. All one had to do was find a proper trigger. "Yes, sir. I would like to have a weapon if I may. And some clothes, too". 

Puppy turned his head to greet them, face lit with reddish tint of living fire. The pot was steaming, and air filled with bitter aroma of snake oil, green pepper and Wutaii herbs he never bothered to learn proper names of. Giles hunched over the stew, throwing things into it and chanting eldritch kitchen lore he received from his revered mother; Kunsel sat on the floor motionless, face unreadable as if he still wore his helmet, fingers running over PHS screen. And here he walks in, his duster left behind, his uniform singed here and burnt there, wounded Soldier leaning on him. At the moment, Genesis almost expected deep green and bright yellow to burst out of muted greys and whites, a proper finishing touch in their shared dream about war finished but not forgotten.

"That's Marco", he said. "Be a good Puppy, take care of him while I'm away."

"Hi, Marco", Puppy nodded. "Be welcome. We'll have some decent food soon, you just wait".

He turned away from the fire, to go look for Souba and some clothes. He didn't want to go; he wanted that fire. He wanted that smell, that sound. Those times long gone, when he was no traitor, no monster, when he could sit beside the fire and talk poetry and scold his comrades for not listening. But it was theirs, not his; and whoever he was now, he was no Soldier and no friends to those gathered. (Except for Puppy, but his was very special case that had no bearing on that one.) So, he turned his back to the fire, his face to the bland darkness of the lab, _so tender yet so unavoidable_. 

"General, come sit with us", Kunsel said. "Don't be a stranger, sir".

***

Shattering his quiet happiness, footsteps came screeching from afar. Slow and measured, and he was sure whoever it was, that person cared to hide their presence.

"Fair", he whispered.

Puppy nodded. Giles gave his stew a melancholic look. Kunsel adjusted sword hilt. Even Marco jolted upright, peering wildly into the darkness between broken stands.

Whoever that was, that person surely wasn't counting on Soldiers to be here. Giles was Class Third, yet even he was able to hear their steps. Genesis, Class First, heard much more. Breath, a little uneven. Heartbeat, calm enough. Wrist-watch, ticking. Some battery, softly buzzing. 

"Turk", Puppy--also a Class First--whispered.

He nodded. Motioned Kunsel to cover Marco and considered hiding between stands himself, but chose to send Puppy instead. He may've ben...whatever he may've been, but Puppy was officially dead. It was all strange--giving orders and preparing for parlay or fight if need be. Stranger still was that Soldier chose to obey his silent commands, despite them being loyal to ShinRa and him being a wanted mutineer and war criminal. 

_Soldier is only ever truly loyal to Soldier,_ Lazard said long, long ago. _We are not anyone's toys, we have honor and dreams we're loyal to,_ Angeal said.

And Seph once said he knew nothing of loyalty, but everything about ownership. _But guess I must be loyal to you,_ he concluded after long deliberation. How came they'd forgotten these words?

Not that he had time thinking about it right now.

He made a guess and was not surprised when it turned true and they saw Tseng. The one with long hair he wore down. 

This Tseng was a piece of beauty and he knew it, Kunsel had told them half an hour before. He carried himself with graceful dignity, yet never forgot to let out a suggestive smile, to put an appropriately-gloved finger to his full lips or to dart a longing glance. Now that this Tseng was standing before him...well, it was just as cringeworthy as he thought. On the other hand, Genesis was himself no stranger to posing. Right now he made himself comfortable with a book in hand, more or less the way he sat at his Banoran home when other Tseng came there. 

_"The ripples raising on waters of wandering soul",_ he said quietly and smiled, content with a short gusp Turk let out. "Or should I try something more appropriate for greeting you of all people? Loveless is Mideelian poetry, after all. You may prefer something of your native variety...say, what about this?", Genesis stood up and made a soft, slow gesture with the book in his hand, as if it was a fan, grinning widely. " _Human life is but fleeting dream, compar'd to the age of the world..."_

This Tseng looked almost offended. Nice. 

"Should I continue? Or would you?"

"Who even are you?!", Turk demanded.

He expected anything but that.

"General Genesis Rhapsodos, Soldier Class First", he clicked his heels in formal greeting. 

"Kunsel, who is that clown?", Turk asked.

Well, that was strange.

"Didn't he say out loud, mister Tseng? He's general Rhapsodos".

"Your general was late Sephiroth", Turk said. Oh, this one would've hurt him once. Now it was more...interesting.

"General Sephiroth was Chief General", Kunsel explained patiently. "We had two more, and they were our only Class First during the war".

With everyone clearly baffled, Marco chose to chime in:

"We had two more generals at the war, true", he said. "The redhead and the bare-fisted one. And this man looks like our redhead general. I don't remember much", he added.

His vote of confidence was surprisingly touching.

"I'm making Malboro stew here, mister Tseng, but my Mommy dearest had always taught me some rosemary and a good pint of hellebore brandy are best for faulty memory".

"Yeah, Tseng, you should trust his Mom, she saved us more times than whole three generals did!", Puppy wasn't able to stay away from such an interesting discussion.

Apparently, a dead man walking was the last straw. 

Turning on his heels, wrong Tseng strided away from them. They heard his voice, calling Reno on PHS and asking if he knows anything about hallucinogenic compounds in Hojo's lab.

Giles watched him go away, then turned back to the pot and let out a soft cry of joy.

The soup was ready at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Is there anything under the sky  
> That escapes unescapable void?
> 
> Totes not written JUST to make Genesis sing some Atsumori, I swear to god))


End file.
